Sur Les Traces
by Kustang
Summary: History remembers the battle but forgets the blood. Not Francis. His life is etched in his history, which starts before the beginning, and will go on forever after. ((Rated M for many reasons. Other ships potentially hinted. Later main FrUK. Incredibly Historical origin story.))


**Author's Note: Well, I've been thinking about it…and honestly, I think there is no better way to start out on fanfiction (or restart, as the case might be) by starting a story that has been on my mind for a long while. I actually did begin this in another account, but due to things, it just fell through. Now that life is back on track, I feel that I will be able to do this thing justice. **

**This is an origin story for Francis Bonnefoy from his point of view and it starts all the way at the beginning. **

**WARNING: This is the prologue, and so it just Francis recollecting his life up until Chapter 1 for three thirds of it. Please skip this if it's tell-y-ness bothers.**

**I obviously don't own Hetalia, but then again, I don't need to. Himaruya is the fantastic bloke that allows us to do whatever the fuck we want so long as we aren't making money off it. And I sure as hell can't on fanfiction.**

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Life began as it always did: from the womb of the mother, and into the light. From there, my life has unfolded— twists and turns given it character—and despite all that I will do, I genuinely think that I am a good person.

I was born on a warm summer evening. This was a time before we had calendars; before I had knowledge of the truth and before I know that succulent language that I would be proud to call my own. Although many say that nations simply appear, that is simply just not the case. We are born from cultures and those ancestral nations from which these traditions and ways of life originate from. They physically come together to make us and we in turn, are created. In my case the kindred soul known as Gaul, who I affectionately called "_Mater_" birthed me, from the seeds of Rome.

While she was had a warmth and comfort in her small yet regal frame, he was a powerful, robust man at that point. As I recall, they couldn't be any more similar if they tried. Both clever people of the crafts, and although mater was more of a farming woman herself, she fought with a brave spirit, just like he. So wonderfully fitting, these two were! Their coming together had to be out of love and nothing else! As a boy, I was convinced that he brought her together with him, so that they could be happy forevermore.

I was very naïve.

"Love is a powerful thing," he would tell me. "It is infinite, and it cannot be contained, so don't fight it, when it comes!" I learnt later that mater had fought his love very hard. The hardest she'd ever fought, in fact but it was of no use. The might of the Romans was too great, even for her, and when it became clear that I was on the way, she gave up.

Most days she would sit alone at the Rhine, and look to the former borders of the place we called home. It was the only time that he was not around, as he made sure that his love for her was cemented in his liniage. This meant long lessons all throughout the day, and hard training sessions, in which I learnt what it meant to be Roman. Fighting, horseback riding, strategic planning and even diplomacy…it was enough to make my head spin back then. Most of the time, I was confused as to why I even needed this.

"We live in the countryside, Pater!" I protested. "No one's going to come around here and fight us!" Why would they, was my logic. After all, one simply did not mess with the Roman Empire. My father was the head of the empire, and still growing every day!

Rome would laugh at my words and pick me up, placing me on his knee. "Fili mi! I may be a powerful, handsome and incredibly charismatic person, but you…you and your mother and me are special people! Very, very special!" His confidence and the way he spoke, I only wished I could emulate such bravado at the time. "Now, I'll tell you a little secret, but promise me that you will never ever tell anybody else! Understand?"

I nodded.

He beamed at me, and rubbed his hands together before pulling me closer to him, at the innermost part of his lap. I clung onto him and pressed my head against his chest, which was protected by golden armour, intricately designed and decorated. Although I wasn't comfortable, I felt comfort with him. "Us three…we live forever."

I gasped and covered my mouth. "Forever?!"

"Forever and ever and ever! But!" The man was quick to suppress my excitement, and raised a finger to the air in emphasis. "You and I and her must protect our lands. You see, we three are Gods upon the Earth, but there is a condition! We exist because the call of our people, say we exist. You are the born lands your mother and me of this generation and the ones after them, and after them. So long as the people, identify you, these lands as their home, you will live on."

I had so any questions! So much to say about this, but at the same time, I couldn't help but imagine the enormity of it all. How could I, such a small boy be all of the lands and the rivers and the trees and the people? "We're the only three?"

"Immo! The only three in the whole wide world!"

This was too much for my heart to take! I hugged him tightly and smiled against this armour, unable to bring myself to even utter a word. Instead, I giggled unable to contain myself. To be a God…and the one of only three in the entire world! It was an honour!

It was so very unfortunate, that it had all been a lie. Not too long after that, mater and I found out that not only were we not the only 'Gods' in the world, but that some of these were my brothers and sister from other women that he had 'loved'.

That evening, there was a fight of words between them. Men dressed in Roman uniforms were standing on either side of them as they spoke in the darkness, faces barely lit by torches the men held. When he cupped her cheek, she would move away, and blame the Gods above—his Gods—for bringing her to him.

"Why are you still here?" She asked, slapping his hand. The fire's glint revealed the void that now dulled her bright blue eyes.

"But didn't you want this? And look at all the good you brought to our son! You're much more civilized now than you were before! Think of the opportu—"

She slapped him, and almost immediately, the Roman guards would grab at her. Struggling to break free, she shrieked. "THIS IS YOUR FAULT! YOU HAVE RUINED MY LANDS! HUMILIATED ME! SWEAR ON MY GRAVE THAT GAUL WILL SLAY YOU!"

"Take her away." Rome ordered.

The men overpowered her almost instantly, and begin to pull her away as she continued to swear vengeance against him. I turned away so that I wouldn't have to look into those eyes of hers anymore. There were so many things I didn't understand, melding together in a way that only made me ashamed. Ashamed to be a Roman if it hurt mater, and ashamed to be a Roman, because he was unfaithful.

Was this what love was? So corrupt…such a seedy institution! I was only thirteen at the time, and I already had enough of it! I wouldn't have long to make my decision on whether I would swear it off for good or not, though.

I was sent away the next day with two Roman Soldiers, and together traveled far…through fields and mountains and rivers that cut deep through the lands. All of Gaul, from the furthermost point of the Rhine to the vast oceans. At this point, we took a boat, and after a week more, we landed on the island known as Britannia.

I was very confused at first; weary of the dim skies and treacherous cliffs which boded to all that came to stay away. What inglorious beings would dare to even live in these conditions?! It was almost…uncouth to even consider living in such a dreadful place.

To my genuine surprise, the old men that had taken me in voluntarily, Angeln and Saxony, were all but the diabolical men that I thought they were. Two brothers, only distinguishable by the colour of their hair, blonde and red, respectively. Literally identical down to the thickness of their brows! By the standards of the soldiers, who often patrolled the fields that we then lived in, they were barbarians, but I saw there was more to them than that. Surely they weren't as refined as the Romans of the mainland, but they fought like beasts, and had stories a plenty to tell.

One I was told about fairly often was of the land that they came from, which was apparently now being ruled by this man named Germania. Apparently the three together were brothers (together 'Gods' the three were, I concluded), but after some time, they decided to explore other places and spread themselves out, and eventually found themselves to stay in Britannia.

"And we saw the most beautiful woman in the world!" Angeln would say. "The most beautiful!" Saxony agreed. "The most beautiful in the world…and together me and Saxony here would stay with her and…keep her company if you know what I mean." I didn't.

Crinkling my nose, I would question where this woman was now, only to always receive the same response: "…Boys shouldn't be asking so many questions! Now go outside and play."

I played with the other boy that lived with us, Artorius. He and I became friends very quickly, and spent all of our time together! Even though I wasn't of the island, he would try to copy everything I ever did or planned to do. Most of the time, I humoured him, though if something bad would come of it, it wasn't my fault! We had so much fun together that when both Angeln and Saxony disappeared, we barely noticed.

Things did get tougher for a while though, as the northern tribes would begin to attack both of us. I took care of him as best as I could, though sometimes, things would just slip by. At one point, they had begun sending curses through couriers, but not long after that, Rome took charge, and a wall was built to keep them at bay. The feat was impressive! A wall that stretched from one part of the island to the other…and immediately passing it was the most daunting of mountain ranges that I had ever seen!

'All for Artorius', as the message from the Rome would say. 'Since you are being protected by the wall too, please teach him what I have taught you. Both of you are in this land together and my love cannot reach you from here.' As soon as I got it, I would take it upon myself to teach him all there was to know about being a 'God'. Since Arthur simply ate my words on a platter, it wasn't particularly hard, and he learnt fast too!

Though this was probably because he was growing older and I was not. Soon enough, he was almost my height and begun to grow facial hair! I realised soon after that his eyebrows were just getting bushier and he was very incapable of growing hair anywhere else on his face.

One day, he decided that he had enough of trying to imitate me and would attempt to instill some of himself onto me in the only way he knew how: showing off. "My mother is Britannia! This is the land of the Britons, so everything here is mine!"

"Non! It is the land of Romans!" I stated proudly. "You should be proud of your heritage! Pater Roma gave us many good things in these lands!" Even if I wasn't the only God, I wouldn't just become jealous over it. It merely meant that I had more family than before!

He would chew on his bottom lip and turned his head slightly. "I am not Roman." There was a tinted colour on his cheek over this fact. I could see it in his eyes, that he wasn't exactly keen about it. After all, if you weren't Roman, you were simply another dingy, uncivilized barbarian. While there was certainly something wild about him, the boy didn't exactly seem barbaric by any means!

Then it dawned on me. "Well, if you aren't Roman, then who is you father?"

A silence hung in the air briefly before he would speak. "I don't know. Angeln and Saxony…they both came around the same time to Britannia, and she welcomed them both in. My brothers and I were what came out, according to her."

"So you're saying…that this is Anglo and Saxon lands?!"

More silence gave away the answer, and I couldn't help but smirk at him. Maybe it was that I felt superior to him or maybe it was the fact that I was, but I wanted to simply rub his nose in it. "So you're Angliae! Angliae! Land of the Anglos!"

"Shut up!"

That was the beginning of the end, as every single day after that, I simply ran it by him every chance I could. That he didn't know who he belonged to. That he was not a true Roman. That his mother was loose. The first chance that Artorius got, he would cast me out of the island, and back to the mainland.

When I came back though, I really didn't know what to do. It felt as though I've been exiled from my own home! Who was he to say that the island was his when it was my creator who owned it all? He was nothing more than some adopted wild man who happened to luck himself out. He was not at all refined, or sophisticated or even at the same level of understanding as the average Roman! Just because a Hispaniard had been Emperor did not mean that the barbarian Britons got to do everything they wanted! At the end of the day though, I do miss him. It's been a while since then.

Halfway back to the Rhine, I found myself in Parissii territory, or at least what used to be so. Time had really passed by! The lands that were beforehand filled with farmers, craftsmen and hunters was now a city that scaled higher than anything I've ever seen before! Arcs surrounded the city and filled it with water and wonderful life!

I walked into what was now being called Paris, and frowned as I would hear the Latin word being salted with strange words. At the same time, such an enigmatic tone fell off my tongue easily, and as I picked up more words, the more I fell in love with the dialect that came straight from Gaul's mouth. My original disgust for it was quickly overturned and overtaken with a feeling that made my chest burst with joy! It was simply a few phrases and the twang the evolving Latin language brushing past Gaullist lips, but it was simply…absolutely and utterly divine.

It's been two months since I first arrived, and only now did I realise how hard it was for me to leave this place now. I have never been to Rome, but if Rome was not anything but this, it was simply not the greatest place in the world. The citizens here, Parissii, Gaul and Frank in descent lived as they would, without the need for the Romans to simply watch over them as they did. Dear Gods were these people insistent! I could only scoff in amusement at the fact that they were so paranoid. Always speaking of incoming revolts…of treason afoot and of the Roman sackings that were dividing the Empire in lands far away. I didn't believe a word of it.

Today I decided that it would be a good idea to take a walk outside and perhaps see the areas at the skirts of the growing populace. Outside my home however, I came upon a sight: soldiers beating against a defenseless man. Usually, I wouldn't interfere, but my actions…I didn't even think about it when I lurched forward and tackled down one of the men.

With gritted teeth, I punched his face, again and again, without stopping, until I was pulled off by the other man. Feeling the painful hit in the stomach, I felt horridly ill, and cringed, only to then get a hit in the jaw. Everything after that simply was a blur. I felt I was falling, and I hit the dirt. The man was peering at me from far away. He turned around. I was picked up once more. An iron covered fist flashed at my face. I felt the dirt again, but I knew I needed to get up…up again, and then another iron fist. Again on the floor.

Opening my mouth, I felt that what was bubbling in my gullet immediately made it's escape, which left me shaking. At that moment, they backed off in fear that I was perhaps contaminated with an illness, and waited to make sure I was done. It was lucky that they decided not to continue beating me then, or surely, God or not, I could have died. All I managed to do with this reprieve was collapse on my side, and pull into myself further, balling up in the middle of the street. It was my first fight.

"You're under arrest now, citizen." The one with bloodied gauntlets said. Both would carry me up, and force me on my feet, each grabbing one of my arms and forcing me to walk forward. My legs suddenly gave out at that moment, but it didn't stop them, and instead, they dragged my limped body out from the crowd and through the streets.

I could only tell because the people thinned out, and no more did I hear the talk of how bloodied up and hideous I looked. Instead, talk of trade, the day's work and other such trivial matters begun to take hold in my ringing ears. Everything hurt so much, I could barely understand. Just barely

As soon as the three of us would get to a strangely decorated building, I was taken inside. What I imagined to be splendored halls to rival it's outside impressiveness was instead a rundown, decrepit dungeon of sorts with more guards than there were prisoners. Without a single stop, they would take me to one of the cells, and throw me right in.

Without being able to move my body, more bile rose out from inside of me. "He'll be dead by morning." One of the two commented before leaving. I couldn't even make it off the floor, so maybe they were right. What if pater was wrong about me and I was going to die here? What if I wasn't a God? No, I couldn't be if I was so weak and let myself fall like this. I was just as mortal as anyone else, and by the morning, I would be dead. I shut my eyes, and drew out a sigh of defeat. I thought of the people that were close to me: mater, pater, Angeln, Saxony and Artorius; of the good times we had together…of their faces when I last faced them.

None of them smiled.

. . .

When I woke up, I was greeted with the scent of fire, and nothing else. No pain, no noises from the inside or out. Simply the smell of burning. Looking up, I would see that my cell…it was open, and with a few stumbled steps, I would walk out of it, and looked around. There was not a single soldier at their post, so I begun to look around.

What I saw was incredible. Bodies were strewn about in their cages…necks either slit or heads completely cut clean off, with blood gurgling out of their wounds. I covered my mouth as I kept walking, and only now did the pungent smell of the blood begin to fill the air. The hand slipped down to my throat unconsciously, only for me to immediately take it back when I felt something _wet_. Was this blood? I touched my throat again, and felt a small groove under the small bump. Did they try to kill me?

I spotted a guard at the end of the hallway, lying on the floor, and ran over, only to find out that he was lifeless. Kneeling down, I pulled him onto his front, and found a dagger rammed through his chest, eyes wide open. Someone was here…or still is here.

Taking his shield from his lifeless hands, I noticed how I looked. There was nothing wrong with me! What were the people yesterday saying about me looking hideous? In fact, I look incredibly handsome! I touched the grove again, with was clearly visible, before touching my prickly cheeks. Was I growing a beard?

Hearing the doors to the place slammed open, and I suddenly scrambled up, taking the shield and the dagger with me before hiding behind the wall. I did not get to see what they looked like, but they weren't from anywhere I knew. They didn't even speak Latin and every place I knew spoke it! Where in the world did you have to come from to not speak in Latin when Rome owned everything?!

Nevertheless I know danger when I hear it, and those footsteps coming closer weren't anything but bad news! I took refuge in one of the cells that perhaps the fallen soldier was protecting and shut my eyes, tightly as I hoped that they wouldn't find me. To all the Gods, I prayed that I would not be caught, only for the exact opposite thing to happen. It wasn't as though the cages that they trapped us in were indents in the walls which have many shadows in which one could hide. No, these were cages for all intents and purposes, and no human was small and frail enough to hide behind them.

Instead, I took the shield that was in my hand, and put it before me, shaking violently as they would come closer, and with almost admirable strength, one of them would pull it down with ease.

"Hail, Roman." I looked up to the source of the booming voice, and saw the most stunning of people that I have seen in my life. The man stood strong, with extremely long blonde hair, two small braids pulling towards the back of his head to pull it all back. His garbs were none like I've ever seen before, but green was the predominant colour in it all. He loomed over all of us, and it seemed almost as though he could lead anyone.

"Hail."

"Son of Rome, I presume." This startled me, and I frowned at the suggestion. Not because I hated him, but because I wasn't expecting it. To be identified as the son of the man…well, for some reason, it didn't fill me with as much joy as it would have before.

"Oui."

"Oui?"  
"It means yes around here, like immo or sic."

"So it does." It didn't seem as though he was here to have a chat with me. "You must be Franciscus then. Representative of the Franks?"

"Representative? No, well, I am Franciscus but…I've never been called a Representative before." I told him.

He would nod at this. "So you haven't." His tone was calm, yet carried a weight like the ocean waves at the edge of the world. Somehow, despite not knowing the first thing about him, I felt honoured to be in his presence. "I am Representative of Germania…not a delegate, but rather a protector. I live on for as long as my people are willing to shout their pride of the lands." Suddenly, I got what he meant. This was the same thing that Pater told me all those years ago. Perhaps then, he had not lied to me about it?

Out of all of that, I only managed an "I see". Clearly then, that meant that I represented the Frankish? If they all knew this, then I must have been deep in the dark. With this, I couldn't help but ask them "How did you know it was me, and how did you know where I was?"

The answer to this was preceded by a chuckle. The men behind him, who seemed confused about the language the two of us were speaking, simply laughed along until Germania put up a hand to silence them. "You know little about the Representatives."

"Only that we're Gods." The statement made him physically wince, and he shook his head at it once the shock wore off. "No. We are not Gods. We are Representatives, and we only do the Gods' work on earth for them. Our job, yours and mine is to protect our lands for as long as they exist. That is why we live longer, why we cannot be injured permanently, and why we cannot die. Once our people do not symbolise with the lands we are to protect, once they are disillusioned by our name, then is when we are mortal, then is when we age past our prime, and that is when we can be killed and die. The reason I was able to find you is because your mother wanted us to find you."

I furrowed my brows at this. Mater was trying to find me? But why? Why know after all these years? If she cursed me as Pater's seed which ruined her lands that final evening as she was whisked into the night, why begin looking now? "I don't wish to see her." I chewed on my lip and turned away my head from them.

"She's dying, Franciscus."

I turned around and looked at him again. "What?"

"She's been dying ever since you left. Gaul didn't know it at first, but then the coughing started, and she begun to feel more and more ill. About ten years ago, she begun to age an—"

"Ten years?!" I exclaimed. "How long was I in Britannia?!"

He spoke gravely. "A very long time."

Everything that was told to me was true. About the aging…about the way we lived and died…and now that Gaul was in decline it would mean the end of her!

"I want to come with you."

"That's why I came." Germania would extend his hand, and I would drop the shield in order to take his. We shook on the goal, and looked up at him as he begun to speak again.

" You will need to fight against the Romans to get to the edge of the Rhine. We have something to give to you" With a few more of those strange words, he would step aside, and a man would step forward, bending on a knee as he presented to me a sword and another would do the same with armour. It looked nothing like what the Romans wore, with less iron and more fur and cloths. It seemed for decoration almost, but as I stepped back to change into it, I found that it was very warm…and less restrictive of my movements than my regular attire.

Taking the sword up once I did so, I held it up in the air, before sheathing it into it's holster.

With no more words, Germania would begin making his way out running, and his followers were not far behind. I tailed at the back, but once we were out, I was right by the Representative's side.

I found myself surrounded in a city engulfed in flames. Those who were escaping were the last of the citizens, being lead by troops of men in their iron uniforms. Germania would take us in another direction, taking back ways and hiding on the opposite side of burning buildings as we begun our escape out of the city, only to find ourselves stopped by the same Roman soldiers that I had taken me in.

Without much more than a raise of his arms, four of the six followers would surround the two, swords drawn. I dared not look, but the screams were as clear as the Seine itself. I will never forget it so long as I live.

Hearing the swords being sheathed and them moving on, I caught up quickly and continued on with them until we were hills and cliffs away from Paris.

On the trail, I felt my heartbreaking for every soul that had to be lost in the endeavour. To find me…so many people had to die and if everything Germania said was true, it was my people who had to die. How was it that I did not feel their pain in my body but in my soul? Is sympathy not something everyone can feel? Yet I shed far too many to count, right until the moment that Paris was nothing more than a flicker in the distance, which was soon snuffed out into the darkness.

May the Gods forgive me for not protecting them. I failed at the thing that I was created to do.

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**I tried to be as historically accurate to the times as possible. I'm already breaking into doing Chapter 1 so that will be going through soon.**

**Things to Know: Francis and Arthur were not names back then, as English and French, let alone derivatives to and from respectively, did not exist. Franciscus and Artorius did exist. It will all tie in later on. As of this moment, French is in stages of infancy and English was a long time away from being fathomed.**

**Mater: Mother in Latin**

**Pater: Father in Latin**

**Fili mi: My son in Latin.**

**Immo: Yes and no, but in terms of agreement or disagreement with a question or statement.**


End file.
